Adventures in Barbie Shoes – March 1, 2005

I wore my new high heels today: 3-inch heels, a 55-degree arch. They are stunning, but I can’t walk in them.

I psyched myself up, told myself it’d be an adventure, a threshold experience (as they say in feminist theory). But I kept seeing myself as one of those women who get their feet bound as preteens so that their toes fall off, or trying to run from a creepy person but hobbled and therefore taking little ineffectual steps.

Advice, when requested, included:

Jessie: “Practice.”

Rachel: “Take big steps and use your hips.”

Mom: “Mince.”

Co-workers: “Wear running shoes to work, then wear pretty, useless heels when sitting daintily at your desk all day.”

I made it until lunch, then managed to walk three blocks leaning on Quinn, then detoured to the mall and bought glorious, cheap, flat-soled black ballet-slipper-esque shoes. I can run from a pervert in these bastards, and (how liberating!) walk by myself. Funny, the things we take for granted.

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America’s Next Top Model – March 2, 2005

There’s a new theme to this fourth instalment of Tyra Banks’s self-indulgent skinny-fest: “Pity Me, I’m a Young, Single Momma With a Baby and I’m Doing This For Him/Her.”

Ick.

The first story was sad, of course, but I swear there were 10 Pity Me, I’m a Young, Single Momma With a Baby and I’m Doing this for Him/Her – s (PMIYSMWBIDH/H). Thankfully, the first two elimination rounds cut out about half of them.

I can only tolerate so much human drama on a show designed to titillate. (That’s not the right verb, but I love it, so we’re going to use it tonight. Titillate. He he.)

Dog Training – Part 7 of 8
Celeste was being so good and attentive, so I had minimal doubts as to her potential success when Sally the Dog Trainer taught us a new technique.

(I wish I could draw a stick figure here to illustrate – maybe on the weekend . . .)

I hold the doggy treats (aka a piece of dead lamb – sorry, Evy) in my right hand, extended out and away from my body. I’m supposed to reward Celeste (with a “click” from the training clicker – a noise – and a treat) when she looks at me. (My eyes, not my hand with the treats in it.)

So I stood there.

Yep.

And I was getting nothing. No eye contact, no sideways glances to say “Hey, where’s my treat?”, nothing. Instead, Celeste sat and fixated on my hand. I could almost read her mind: Drop the treats, Hand. How can I please you, oh Hand?

Puppies were gazing at their owners, lovingly, and being rewarded. Puppy foetuses, practically. But nothing from Celeste.

Anyhoo, I’m disappointed because this only confirms that I AM NOTHING to Celeste EXCEPT A TREAT DISPENSER. I’m being used. For my dead lamb meat. That is the saddest thing ever.

. . . Except for writing fan letters to a Toronto comedian and getting no response whatsoever. (Titillate. Hehe.)

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Super Heather Strikes Again – March 3, 2005

Not only did I run around the block, I ALSO did an extra loop around the castle! Yay! And I learned a new thing about running (at least for today, within this specific context of weather, my biology, not fitting into three different skirts this morning, etc.): there is a plateau after the sore-legs, out-of-breath phase!!! And it’s a happy plateau!!! I had flashbacks to when I was sixteen and climbed a mountain with Nate after eating nothing but a granola bar – I felt like I could have gone on forEVER. Adrenalin in a very nifty thing.

I considered doing a second lap, but my writing teachers always said to “leave them wanting more” so I just came home.

Heather’s Marathon Soundtrack
Instead of Eminem I listened to Q’s CD, the soundtrack to Love, Actually. It’s perkier, and more suitable for a spring-y day.

What’s Up for the Warren
The straw is EVERYWHERE. Caramel and Seamus have decided to carpet their porch. In an enchanting – but itchy- pale yellow. I plan to scoop it all up ASAP, since the cold season’s over, before my landlord becomes displeased with me. They sure love it, though – they tunnel and Seamus always has a bit o’straw on his head these days.

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LETTER TO LEVI – March 6, 2005

Dear Levi,

I mailed your third (and possibly last) letter on Friday. In it, I argue every conceivable reason why you have not written me back or acknowledged my existence in any way. I’ve also included some self-addressed, stamped postcards in case you’re just too poor/lazy to send a letter.

You should know that I am now a fabulous blonde and I will probably meet a wonderful (straight, unmarried) man here in Victoria as soon as the sky clears. Act now! I don’t want to break your heart and be just another sad joke in your repetoire.

Also, there are cheap Westjet flights available now between Toronto and Victoria! Just a suggestion . . .

Love always (or until I move on),
Heather xxxooo

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What Do Mouths Taste Like? – March 6, 2005

For the 2nd time in 24 years I have a weird situation where one of my tastebuds has become usually large and (due to an increase in surface area) unusually sensitive. This has led me to wonder why our mouths don’t have a flavour: salty, sweet, bitter, sour, or whatever the four tastes are. How lucky is that?! Otherwise, food would always be affected by the default flavour of our mouths.

Or maybe our mouths do taste like something, but we’re each so used to the taste that we think it’s flavourless. Maybe that’s why some people have bad breath – because their mouth has a very distinct and unusual flavour, and we aren’t used to it, so we don’t like it.

Peter and My Hair
Quinn kindly pulled strands of my hair through a cap last night – this requires a great deal of patience – and then I dyed it and now I’m back to my summer blond. Around this time of the year I tend to get impatient with the quasi-summer weather and I want to rush its effects. Anyhoo, The “highlights” encompass a great deal of my hair (thanks to Quinn’s OCD) and so I’m REALLY blonder than I was the day before. I love it. I feel like summer again.

I think Peter likes it too because he jumped up onto my bed last night (as he occasionally does) and bounced around like he was on a trampoline. He also sat on my pillow for awhile – I had to discourage him from chewing on my hair, which he loves to do and which has caused problems in the past – but we bonded overall and it was lovely.

And Everything Else
I’ve had a number of adventures since I last wrote, so I think I’ll quickly sumarize for the record:

Work: I’ve signed on for TEAMS, which is an on-call emergency response group that flies me to emergency situations (i.e. forest fires) and then I help with the public information part.

Physical Well-Being: I bought three yoga videos from London Drugs for a very reasonable $4.99 each (I guess yoga isn’t so cool anymore) and I’m going to incorporate them into my exercise regime (aka running around the block sometimes).

Alcohol and Friends, Not Necessarily in That Order: Yesterday Q and Jessie and I went to the annual book sale at the old Bay building and bought ridiculous quantities of second-hand books. My choices included an extra copy of Carol Shields’s Unless, which I love, and a few other as-yet-unread-by-me Canadian novels. Then we had breakfast at Milestones, and then I had a nap, and then Quinn dyed my hair, and then we went for drinks at the Keg, and then we went to a party where all the men (except Q and Justin) did things involving computers and they were NO FUN AT ALL because they just converged around a computer and mixed music and were boring. Then we left and I went to bed.

Family: I realized the other day that if Evy and Jared have a girl baby, and if they name her Abigail as has been discussed, then her name would be Abby Babitch. Say that out loud.

So I called Evy and left a message telling her this. I hope this convinces them to stick with “Walker.”

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Namaste – March 6, 2005 – 8:49 pm

I did 25 minutes of yoga today. I’m always surprised that easy stretching and breathing can feel so strenuous. The worst “morning after” pain I’ve ever felt was due to a beginner’s pilates class back in the early days of Fitness World.

I *heart* Huckabees
Q and I rented this and watched it today. Or, I watched it and ruminated on the nuances of existential and nilhistic thought – Quinn had a nap on the couch. It was a celebrity-version of What the Bleep Do We Know?, the same sort of “what is reality?” themes (and/or mission statements).

One character, “Brad” (Jude Law), reminds me of a lot of people I know who are caught up in their daily routines. No time for thinking! It just complicates everything! I must be pretty and charming, all the time, in case you’re watching! Who cares if I’m happy or sad, as long as you think I’m happy!

Maybe that’s everyone? I keep assuming, since I’ve been obsessed with the power of thought and etc. due to my anxiety thingy, that everyone is reading these same books and having these same internal/external/drunken discussions about happiness and what the fuck we’re doing next weekend and why exactly we’re doing it. But then I offer the same epiphany-triggers to friends or family, whoever, and it’s just another book to read or movie to watch or fight to have. I like that about teachers — that they so often manage to find a universal trigger. The best teachers (like Mr. Funnel, my physics/chem teacher in highschool) can jolt your brain on a regular basis, because they are so good at knowing how to make those synapses fire.

I’m sleepy and not being very clear —

Intentions
I have some great pictures to post. Fireworks is tempermental, though, so I will have to wait until it’s happy with me before I can post anything. I have a picture of the M Award Alex made for me, and of the portrait I painted of Peter today, and of my baby bunnies, and lots. Perhaps tomorrow.

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Sleepy at 7pm – March 7, 2005
It’s too early to go to bed, even for someone (aka me) who woke up at 5:30/6am. I want to stay awake! Rick Mercer’s Monday Report is on tonight, as well as CSI Miami; I have three new books to read in addition to my existing shelf of “in progress” novels; and a 7pm bedtime is really uncool for a 24 year old woman.

But I’m sleepy and my bed is so comfortable . . .

Intrusive Procedures and How I Feel About Them
I had my first ever not-unpleasant PAP test today! Memorable PAP exams have included vomiting, fainting, crying, and a general feeling of unhappiness. My doctor referred me to his wife, another doctor (of course — like she’d be an accountant or something, giving PAP tests), and she is wonderful. I didn’t even take ativan or drink before the exam. And afterward, I went back to Q’s and made us tacos for dinner. (A healthy uterus, and a good little kitchen whore too! What a combo! Order now, while supplies last!)

Peter
As usual, he’s eating. I don’t understand what he likes so much about these new pellets. I’ve briefly considered that he’s politically psychic, because the new brand is “Martin” but I’m not too sure what the implications of that are.

Why I’ll Go To Heaven
I’m responsible for SO many people working in their dream jobs. Let’s all take a moment and appreciate me.

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Portrait #2: Not So Great – March 8, 2005

I painted me and Q from a picture Q has in a frame above his TV. It’s pretty terrible – Quinn looks like a Muppet. It was exciting, though, to use colours other than the grey and black and white I used to paint Peter. And people are tricky — bunnies are just ovals with appendages. I’m not sure where I will display this distressing work of art, but for now it’s haunting Quinn from his dining room table. When it’s dry, I’ll hide it in the closet, or maybe paint over it like artsy painters do, thereby increasing its artistic and monetary value.

Meanwhile, Peter’s portrait has found an extra nail to hang from in the hallway of my house. It makes me smile when I come home.

Baby Bunnies
I refilled their food dispenser, and only Caramel ran out to check up on me, and for a second I thought she’d eaten Seamus, or he’d fallen off the wall, or something terrible. But no, he was hiding behind the water bottle in the upper story of their cage. So all is well. Except that my sweet male bunny is a wimp.

Canker Sores & How to Deal With Them
Occasionally I get a canker sore — apparently they’re a symptom of stress, although I don’t feel stressed out. There are many ways to treat these icky apparitions. Last night I applied some special numbing medicine stuff, but then my face froze and I drooled all over my pillow. It’s probably for the best that I sleep alone. Tonight I applied salt, which stings at first but has usually led to a speedy recovery. I wonder if lip cancer feels like this. I’m very glad that I don’t use chewing tobacco.

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This Epiphany Brought to You Courtesy of Government-Funded Counselling – March 10, 2005

Forgive any spelling and/or inarticulate sentences – it’s thursday and martinis are on special at Syn.

My counselor Beth and I discussed the circumstances of when stress first appeared in my life. Namely: money, and a lack thereof at a time when I needed it to pay for university. And then she said, But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.

And it was a freaking Good Will Hunting moment (“It’s not your fault!”) and I realised that I DON’T have to worry about money anymore. I’m fine, I’m self-sufficient, I pay my bills when (or before) they’re due, and I can feel fairly secure in my income level (i.e. even if I lose this job, I’m qualified for an equally-great one). I don’t need to expect family or friends to support me; I can do it myself.

And AHA! that means I can release all the stress, refocus all the energy, and exhale all the worry that I’ve carried around for three/four years about money, and my expenses, and my financial security. Because even though I’m not exactly financially secure, this is about as good as it gets.

Phew.

It’s funny how, even long after the game is done, we still think we have to play by the rules.

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Entertainment O.D. – morning, March 13, 2005

It’s Tourist in Your Own Hometown time, and yesterday Jessie, Justin, Q and I exploited Victoria. Our adventures included:

Miniature World, The Undersea Gardens (which wasn’t total crap, as we’d suspected), the Wax Museum, Tea at the Empress, and the IMAX.

Future exploitations (due to post-dated perks) include whale-watching and an exceptionally decadent buffet feast at Kipling’s.

Also, we saw Robots at SilverCity last night — it was funny, but strangely unoriginal in parts. For example, the son lives to impress his father, which is “heart-warming” and “admirable,” and ultimately rewarded. Another son exists to please his mother, who is nefarious and scheming – she dies, and he is emasculated.

ALSO
There are SUPER COOL movies coming out soon — including The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. (!!!!!!)

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Roulette – evening, March 13, 2005

Our Tourist package included $5 for slot machines at the Casino, so Q and I kidnapped Lindsay and went gambling.

We didn’t win anything. It was fun, though.

Also, Q and Celeste and I went walking on Dallas Road, along the beach. SO pretty – blue skies and sunshine – I was warm in a tanktop and skirt. Celeste went swimming and had a MARVelous time chomping on a buffalo bone that Q brought to entertain her.

I’m really sleepy – tomorrow will be busy. So nothing profound to share tonight . . . I’m making a scrapbook in preparation for a summer of adventures, so I might play with that before I go to sleep.

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Dinner @ the Empress – March 14, 2005

We gorged. Jessie and Q shared Merlot, Justin peeled platefuls of shrimp, and I practiced my snooty British accent. Two hours of gourmet buffet = heaven.

Jobs That We Do, And Even Enjoy
A game! Yay! Mix and match to connect our ideal employment positions with a favourite friend!

a.) accept calls from cranky, angry, and sometimes crazy people, get yelled at, sworn at, and then try to help them.

b.) carry heavy pieces of wood around. Work outside in the winter cold, or in the summer heat, and negotiate with neurotic, cheap rich people.

c.) stare at a computer screen all day, from 6:30am to 2:30 (sometimes 5) pm. Transcribe hour-long talk shows. Email people to tell them they have a crisis they need to deal with.

d.) entertain small, sticky, germy, leaky children.

e.) cater to the whims of a family with no hope of being appreciated.

f.) be the middle-man between politicians and bureaucrats. Send emails to chasten busy people when they miss deadlines.

ANSWERS:

a.) Jessie; b.) Dad; c.) Me!; d.)Evy; e.) Mom; f.) Quinn.

I’m really not being negative, I just find it HILARIOUS that we all hate each others’ jobs, wouldn’t do it for a million dollars, and yet all do exactly what we love and excel at. (Except Quinn, who will one day be one of those politicians . . . )

The Source
I haven’t received my eBay-purchased Johnny Depp movie yet. Hopefully all is well – it’s coming in from the states, so I’m trying to be patient.

Future Events and Excuses to Be Social
Our St. Patrick’s celebration this year is a BYOS party (Bring Your Own Stranger). We’re trying to meet new people. It’s oddly difficult to think of a “stranger” to invite, considering that we live in Victoria.

Protege Goes AWOL
I’ve been trying to help a guy from London, Ontario, get a job with PAB, and we got to the Follow-Up Email stage about a month ago, but I haven’t heard from him since. Very strange. I think he must have died.

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Soviet Canuckistan – March 15, 2005

I’m watching a very old episode of This Hour Has 22 Minutes. SO funny. I wonder – if Levi and I ever meet and fall in love, will we cuddle on my couch and watch Canadian satire together? How romantic . . .

Random Annoying TV Commercials
I hate the Charmin toilet paper ads. BEARS DO NOT USE TOILET PAPER.

Fun With Income Taxes
I’ve spent a good few hours navigating forms and explanations of forms, and I think I’m done my 2004 income taxes.

Sad News: I’m too wealthy to get a GST refund for 2004.

Happy News: I’m still poor enough to get a refund! Yay! Thank you, six months of unemployment and leftover tuition credits! Perhaps I shall use my sudden windfall for a Greek cruise – or groceries . . .

Things Momma Said That I Didn’t Believe Until Now
I thought, hey! I’m a poor student, I live off of $10,000 to $20,000 a year, and still can afford play tickets and alcohol! When I’m grown up and have a real job, I’ll be RICH BEYOND MY DREAMS!

What Momma said: Your expenses inflate with your income.

Conclusion: Sure, I have new clothes and a sexy laptop and happy, plump bunnies with food dishes full of gourmet bunny pellets, but where the hell did my paycheck go?!

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Also – March 15, 2005 – 1/2 hour past my bedtime

I forgot to mention that I came home to find my new movie, The Source, in my mailbox! It’s my first ever eBay purchase.

I watched about half of it – up until the point where William Burroughs shot his wife while high on LSD (or something) and playing William Tell. It’s a documentary: I already know how it ends.

It’s a mystery why I love the Beat movement so much. Women were nothing more than sexual objects to read poetry to. The men were open minded about EVERYTHING (race, sexual orientation, art, drugs) except respecting their girlfriends/lovers/mothers-of-their-children. AND YET, every goddamn time I hear a recording of Jack Kerouac reading, or ANYone reading his work, and while watching The Source or reading their books, I feel completely at home. It’s like comfort food, but with sound.

My parents didn’t play me Jack Kerouac’s recordings in utero — my Daddy was only 7 when On the Road came out — so I have no real reason to feel this strongly about a bunch of druggies who shared girlfriends.

Then again, why question this gift of comfort? It’s rare to feel at home in this “mad” world.

New Favourite Quote:

I’m with you in Rockland.
– Allen Ginsberg, HOWL

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Doing the Dishes w/ Big Bad Voodoo Daddy – March 20, 2005

I want to learn a certain kind of dancing – maybe the Charleston? Swing? It involves music with horns and a great bass line – Big Bad Voodoo Daddy or something like that. And there’s a special kind of dress. Something that moves a lot. I can either dance with a partner, alone, or in a group – on stage or in a club or in my kitchen.

In the Background
I’m tolerating (NOT watching) Open Water, about the couple who went scuba diving and were abandoned by their tour boat in the middle of the ocean. I’m very interested in how the filmmakers intend to keep my interest in a story about a stationary set of characters in a static environment.

They just escaped a pack of jellyfish. She’s crying.

Peter and My Night Away
Jessica had a very lovely party last night, with wine and some people I didn’t know. We wandered to the Brick Yard for pizza and then went dancing at Prism. I stayed over at Q’s, to snuggle with Celeste, and when I returned this afternoon Peter was QUITE distressed. He was sitting on the couch when I opened the door, and just stared at me. Accusingly. I fed him right away. And then I threw out the single poop he’d left on my pillow.

Open Water
Wow, interesting twist! She napped, floating on her back, and woke up with no hubby nearby, just some sharks . . .

Oh, there he is. I hope they tie themselves together now.

Apparently this movie is one mysterious, below the water ache/tickle at a time.

The woman character is obnoxious. He was supportive of her hysteria, sea sickness, sleepiness – and when he started freaking out, she just starts a fight with him! She is NOT a good character. I’m a MUCH more supportive person. Too bad he isn’t stranded in the ocean with me.

SUSAN: “I wanted to go skiing.”

Belated Sharing of an Epiphany
At my last counseling session, Beth the Counselor made another intriguing distinction for me – she separated the “work” and “finances” parts of human life. I think I’m closer to understanding this distinction than some, since I enjoy my work and also consider my non-paid writing to be work, but still Beth’s revelation struck me. Do people really work, even if they don’t need money? If you won the lottery, would you quit your job? Would you do a different kind of work?

And Finally: Tea
The Empress gave us each a box of tea to take home after our shmancy Afternoon Tea experience. I’ve been chugging it on the weekends – it is SO good. Very strong, but subtle — not as chalky as most bagged teas. I wanted tea this morning at Quinn’s and I cracked open his box — how exciting that I have my tea flavour of the week at both the apartments I frequent!

Open Water
It’s night! And there are really big sharks! This is awesome. I’m going to make some tea and eat sandwiches.

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“Intervention,” Episode 2 – March 20, 2005

This is the 2nd episode – the first one was about a heroin addict and a prescription meds addict. This one has a pill popper and a cutter.

I expected to find some understanding with this new series, but the people are so self-involved! The cutter’s dad keeps talking about Jesus and how she should feel guilty because she isn’t respecting her “temple” (i.e. body). Ick.

Quinn just called during the commercial – we’re comparing viewing experiences. I said I just wanted to smack her and tell her to get out of her head; Quinn said he felt sorry for her. Interesting.

Favourite Part of Any Book Ever Written (And something that I think better explains things):

It happens that I am going through a period of great unhappiness and loss just now. All my life I’d heard people speak of finding themselves in acute pain, bankrupt in spirit and body, but I’ve never understood what they meant. To lose. To have lost. I believed these visitations of darkness lasted only minutes or hours and that these saddened people, in between bouts, were occupied, as we all were, with the usefulness monotony of happiness. But happiness is not what I thought. Happiness is the lucky pane of glass you carry in your head. It takes all your cunning just to hang on to it, and once it’s smashed you have to move into a different sort of life.

– Unless, by Carol Shields

Restlessness
I really don’t intend for this to be a gloomy piece of writing! Sometimes we ruminate on happiness, sometimes sadness, and that’s part of a normal, up-and-down life (hee hee, I’m a puppet! Anyhoo . . .).

So, I’m trying to define a feeling – it’s not sadness, and it’s not . . . BAD, necessarily – it’s restlessness, and my first associative thought is Aritha Van Herk, and her book where the protagonist hires a hitman to kill her (the protagonist — a complicated suicide). How morbidly hilarious.

On Intervention, they just talked about self-medicating, in that the addict KNOWS that a particular something – drugs, alcohol, physical pain – works, and so it’s very very difficult to give up that guaranteed remedy. There’s something so pleasing about a truth, said in plain language. I guess the secret is to replace that negative remedy with a healthy one. The strange thing, though, is that these self-medicating addicts at least have an idea of what makes them feel better. If you don’t already know a cure that works for you, it’s kind of tricky to replace it.

Analogy: the room is dark, and you want to screw in a lightbulb, but you don’t know what the correct wattage, style, whatever, is. It’d be easier if you already had a bulb that worked in the lamp, even if it was burnt out, but if you don’t then you have to buy a whole bunch of bulbs and try them one by one, risking sparks and electrical mishaps. And maybe none of the bulbs fits properly, because it’s an IKEA lamp or something. Frustrating. Makes you want to ignore the goddamn lamp and use a flashlight. Maybe it’s silly in the long term, but at least you can read your book.

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A Good Start to a Decent Day – March 21, 2005

I got an email from my London, Ontario new friend! Yay! I thought he might be dead, but he isn’t.

The Little Paws Saga
Q “tried out” a doggy named Daisy for 6 days in December, and has been paying for it ever since. For four months, the Victoria Little Paws Rescue Society guy has been dodging Q’s emails and phone calls, lied about the $275 refund check being “in the mail,” and twice stood up Q at an arranged meeting time.

It was a stressful evening, but three and a half hours after this last no-show, “small claims court” google results on the computer, Q contacted the Vancouver founder of the group and all is well (knock on wood). Apparently Rob is a pooper, and a full refund is on its way.

I’m a wonderfully supportive friend. I even made gyoza for snacky snacks!

And Now
It’s past my bedtime and Peter is nowhere to be seen — he might be pouting, since I pet him a little bit this morning and then wasn’t here after work to give him the attention he deserves. What a demanding bunny!

Also
Happy first day of spring! I received my new Tupperware flyer in the mailbox today . . . the new lids are pink and green and yellow and blue. AND I might go to Vancouver this weekend — IKEA! I love kitchen ware.

Last Minute Peter Update
He has shown himself — all is well. Meanwhile, I can hear smokers coughing on the communal porch, and I’m concerned about my babies – can bunnies get emphysema?? Goddamn smokers!

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Lamb, Asparagus, Mashed Taters – Oh my! – March 22, 2005

Q and I had dinner and discussion at my Aunt & Uncle’s tonight, plus the company of my Gramma. VERY yummy and pleasant, especially since everyone is living their own adventures these days and it’s neato to compare, and see how utterly insufficient solipsism is, because people just keep on DOING things, even when you aren’t there to watch.

Cranky and Sleepy & Grumpy (Another Triad)
Peter has spring fever. That’s my diagnosis. I DID NOT sleep very well AT ALL last night, because he was on my bed, jumping and tunneling and scratching and sitting and bouncing and running. While I do love his shiatsu-style massages, it’s stressful having to worry about waking up with a bunny hair cut (sometimes he thinks I’m hay, or that he has to groom me). I rebelled at work today, watching Rick Mercer’s Monday Report online, taking a leisurely breakfast break at 9, and gorging on sushi for lunch.

Rick Mercer’s Monday Report
I could give you the link, but why bother when we have google?

Rick was at UVic last week, and there’s a clip on his site with interviews of students. Also, there’s a VERY funny “Farewell to Paul Cellucci” (or whatever his name is — the US Ambassador).

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America’s Next Top Model – March 23, 2005

I’m deathly ill. Contributing factors: bizarre work hours, a shitty sleep Tuesday night, a bunny rabbit with Spring Fever, and indecisive weather, which causes me to walk around with bare legs, spring shoes, and heavy wool coats thereby compromising my internal temperature balance.

Kate and Heather B. are wonderful people. They practically shoved me out of the office (apparently I looked like a lemon . . . ?) and I went and slept for HOURS. Then Q and I had our yoga class, and I tried to ride an exercise bike for awhile after, but my balance is wonky and I’m full of snot, so that didn’t work very well.

Anyhoo, so now, well-fed and hydrated, I’m watching America’s Next Top Model. It’s how Alex and I bond, long distance. I want to have a HOT shower and chug some nyquil . . . I just hope I feel healthy tomorrow! Sickness sucks, especially right before a long weekend!

My House Is a Mess
Yep.

And I Met My Neighbour
I’ve been nervous about the neighbour who lives below me – Peter can be fairly noisy, with his stomping and tunneling.

However, my neighbour also has noisy social gatherings. So screw him.

Menthol is Super
Whenever I get sick I run over to Shopper’s Drug Mart and buy menthol kleenexes. If you’ve never used them — well, you should. They are WONDERFUL. The menthol makes my sinuses go woowee, and I can breathe!!!! Sometimes. The times it doesn’t, I can still huff a little menthol . . .

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Interesting Perks of Bizarre Work Hours – March 25, 2005

Since I go to bed at 8:30pm, I have to miss the only tv shows I’m interested in: CSI! Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. So I tape them.

THEN, since I’m used to waking up early, I can’t sleep in past 8:30am. So on the weekends I get up, make a huge pot of Liption Yellow Label tea, and watch three hours of CSI. Since normal people aren’t awake until much later, I don’t get bothered by phone calls or weekend plans.

Heaven.

Dr. Heather’s Prescription
I left work at 2 yesterday, caught a bus home, and SLEPT. I woke up at 6:30, ate some soup and crackers, then SLEPT. This morning I got up for tea & CSI at 8:30 — and voila! I feel a lot better. Nyquil is a miracle drug.

And Today
I’m making a Greek dinner for Q and some of our coworkers. It’s been a long time since I cooked Greek food, so I hope I can remember how to do it! I’m tempted to place random stones around Q’s apartment, and then if anyone picks them up we’ll set off sirens and arrest them. Hehe.

(That was a clever reference to current news – if you don’t think I’m funny, buy yourself a newspaper. Gees.)

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MOST EXCITING NEWS EVER – March 26, 2005

Levi MacDougall’s Comedy Now! special is re-airing tomorrow night (Sunday)!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you are ANYWHERE near a tv, or know how to operate your VCR, you MUST watch/record this miracle of programming. He’ll be on the Comedy Network at 10pm, PST and EST.

I might watch my tape again today, just to celebrate.

Meanwhile

I’ve been ruminating on the nature of friendship. A lot of my “friends” and I have different sorts of relationships, and I find it interesting that expectations, obligations, and levels of effort vary so much.

The Root-Friend
For example: Liv, and Matte. I’ve known each since my first year in Victoria, and I know them quite well (at least, I did at some point). I like to think that I understand some of their primary motivations, history, goals, etc. We accidentally run into each other every few weeks or months, and then stop to summarise the +/- changes in our lives, give new contact info, and (maybe) make actual plans to meet up to fully discuss all the new things in our lives. I’ve met their parents and siblings, and know their hometowns, and am usually somewhat current on their work and romantic status.

The Non-Romantic Life Partner
For example: Quinn. We know each other REALLY well; have met each others’ extended family, have stayed in one another’s family homes, and see each other daily. We have inside jokes and can communicate via telepathy. If one of us is sad or happy or worried, we call each other first, and then the other will support us (financially, emotionally, physically).

The Best Friend(s)
For example: Jessie. We haven’t known each other since birth, but choose to spend a lot of time together and grow together. We share crises and successes. There are still LOTS of new things to be learned about each other, and that’s part of the thrill. There’s a sense that “we’re in this together” and we look forward to being together when (for example) we decide to have babies, etc.

The Others
These are fun, interesting, or kind people that I like to spend time with, usually in a group setting. Jessica, for example, is brilliant and a LOT of fun, but we’ve never had a personal conversation. Justin is a sweetheart, and I like to watch his capeoira performances and eat brunch with him, but he’s “Jessie’s boyfriend” and I wouldn’t know him otherwise. Spencer, my Mormon hair stylist, is a wonderful man to talk to, and a rowdy dancer. I don’t even have his phone number.

The Balancing Act
This is the heart of my personal debate. We are all changing – most of my day-to-day aquaintances are in their 20’s, and so are changing DRASTICALLY in terms of work, finances, spirituality, love, home, personal goals, identity . . . There are exciting, happy, thrilling moments (like when we realise we’re getting paid to do what we LOVE), and there are sad moments (when our relationships are boring or frustrating). There is so much opportunity during these times for jealousy, frustration, self-involvement, neglect. It’s especially hard (and, I think, especially important) to maintain your friendships during this time.

After all, most of us live apart from our families, and our only support networks are the friends we make and keep. Also, our lives are often different from our families. My sister, at 23, is going to have a baby. In Invermere, with her friends, this is a VERY normal and natural step. In Victoria, with my friends, this would be weird. We’re just doing different things right now. And so, having established these networks of people who live with the same “status quo,” we can feel supported and make our deicisions with confidence (or less fear).

(I’m trying to avoid and generalize my concern, but this is my website so goddamn it, I’ll be straightforward.)

The Thing Is
Our friend is getting married, and she’s starting to shed her friendships. This scares me. I’m all for being best friends with your partner, but loving someone in isolation is unhealthy. What happens if the relationship isn’t working? or you need something that your partner can’t provide? Isn’t it a good idea to have friends outside of your “couple friends”? It can’t be fair to the other person, if you rely on that one person to help provide all the emotional, spiritual, intellectual support you need.

A couple-ship (even marriage) makes it even more important to have outside supports. That’s how abusive relationships begin and continue – because s/he has no one to help them get out. I mean no disrespect to Rachel or her man – he’s lovely, too, and I certainly don’t expect them to have an abusive relationship. It just worries me, to see our friend reject her supports when SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO LOSE THEM. She can have it all, her man and her own friendships. And who doesn’t want to have it all?

Conclusion
In my ruminations, I’ve concluded that there is a formula for a healthy friendship. I think this applies to EVERY model listed above:

Energy & Time in Heather’s Friendship Formula is divided as follows:

50% focus on the friend
. . . half of which is spent on happy news (minimum)

50% focus on you
. . . half of which is spent on happy news (minumum)

However, a TRULY healthy friendship should also include 10-25% of unhappy news (within each friend’s 50%). In order to properly appreciate someone’s successes/luck/greatness, we need to see their failures, fears, and misfortunes. (It’s like seeing the light because it isn’t dark.)

For example: I feel silly telling a stranger or acquaintance that I got published, but if they already know that I’ve been rejected ten times before then they can be happy with me, and share my pride. I’ve watched girl friends go through negative relationships, and then when they find someone who is kind and worthy, I can be happy for them.

This doesn’t mean that friend-times should be a bitch fest. Note the MINIMUM 25% happy news requirement. But, as so many obnoxious people have pointed out, life = happy + sad. If you or a “friend” is only sharing happy news, then it’s mathematically logical to say that you/they are hiding something, and if these people truly are your friends, then YOU DON’T HAVE TO HIDE IT. Take advantage of these silly people who choose to like you! Exploit the Friendship Formula! Bitch and swear and scream about that fucker at work, and then drink a martini and say how much you love your mate. THAT’S what friends are for.

Anyhoo, I suppose this is a long enough ramble. I don’t claim to be a great friend – I’ve cut off relationships because they were inconvenient, and neglected friends because I was enraptured by a new boyfriend. But I think I’m learning. And I think my BRILLIANT formula, applied retrospectively, explains why some of my relationships have worked, and others haven’t.

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Sleepy and Chilly & Content – March 28, 2005
All is well — please see “Letters to Levi/Writing to Ryan” for today’s more long-winded entry.

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WRITING TO RYAN – March 28, 2005
Due to various factors, my love affair with Levi MacDougall has ended.

Happily enough, I have now (re)met Ryan and he is a Vancouver rockstar and future Jack Kerouac, and I will be Neal Cassidy (or maybe we’ll take turns – or maybe Burroughs and Ginsberg, since they had sex and Ryan’s very pretty . . . anyhoo) and we will exchange vivacious insights into this mad world and one day publish our correspondence and be the Mad RockStar and SuperHero H-Bomb of our generation.

[A photo of Ryan was posted here on the original blog site.]

For those who are thinking, Hey, that Ryan guy kind of looks like Heather, I say, sure he has lovely eyebrows and he happens to have bleached hair at this particular point in time, and yes I’m an unapologetic narcissist, but he’s also 6’3″ so clearly I’m not merely in love for superficial reasons. Ahem.

That is enough loving for today – I am freezing in this goddamn apartment and I’m going to have a bath.

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I Don’t Wanna But I Do – March 29, 2005

I’m so close to going for a run that I have proper clothes on (sans running shoes) and my hair in pigtails. But it’s COLD outside!!!

However, CSI is on tape in the VCR, and that provides a mighty tempting reward. Also, Q will return from IKEA later today with my IKEA purchases in his trunk, and I like to brag to him that I’ve run because he doesn’t believe that I can maintain any sort of fitness routine (which is true – I never have – but this time it’s definitely different).

Okay . . . here I go.

. . .

Done. Well, that was thrilling. Also, I bought two BEAUTIFUL bouquets of flowers today – one is white and yellow, and the other is 12 dozen yellow roses. They are all squashed together in a vase on my coffee table. So pretty.

Q is in Richmond today and Jessie was sick at home, so I was all alone for lunch. I wandered around and read greeting cards, which I strongly believe should be a recognised hobby. There should be a magazine for greeting card readers. Once I wanted to write them, but that path wandered away and now I only make cards on occasion. Instead, I hunt for brilliant, subversive bits of Hallmark Art and send them to unsuspecting (or suspecting and tolerant) acquaintances.

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I Hate All My Neighbours – March 29, 2005

Mainly because the guys below me make me feel like an old lady. I wake up at 5:30 am (ideally) and so I go to bed at a stupid time (8:30pm) and sometimes they have drink and music fests on the weekdays. For example, it is now 10pm. Also – and I SWEAR this is true – they say “fuck” more than I do.

GUY: Fuck fuck fuck fuck – bang bang – fuck!

A direct quote. Honestly. I can hear every fucking word through the old fireplace.

The saving grace is that they play (very loudly) music that I like. I guess I’m not that old. Blink 182, Sum 41 – those baby punk bands with numerals. It’d be ideal, if they’d just shut the fuck up so I could listen to the music.

Anyhoo.

Other neighbours I love to hate are the Jehovah’s Witnesses, who have their hall right next door. They take up all the residents-only parking. Luckily a woman was leaving just as I pulled up in Q’s car, so I didn’t have to massacre the mo’fos.

Ginormous accomplishment of the day
I built a set of drawers. OR assembled. Whatever. IKEA furniture is a lot harder to put together than you might think. I had to use four different screwdriver bits. And a hammer. I will post a picture as soon as I get around to it.

Oh, and, saddest news ever
One of my new green IKEA bowls broke!!!!! I unwrapped them to find one with a massively chipped side. Maybe I’ll mosaic something. It’s a particularly intoxicating green. But still sad – I thought about those bowls a fair bit today . . .

Flashback to a Favourite Disclaimer
It’s gone from the archives by now, so I’ll just repeat that I have a Christmas Eve Complex. I’m like the guy on Swingers who gets a girl’s phone number, then calls within the hour and has a whole relationship with her answering machine until she picks up the phone and tells him to never call again. I GET EXCITED.

This explains a lot: lusting after an unresponsive Toronto comedian; obsessing over green IKEA bowls; and falling in love with a stranger who lives in Richmond. Yep.

The Music is Gone
I’m too fucking proud to stomp on the floor . . . kids these days . . .

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Sleeping-In is AOK – March 30, 2005

I wandered into the office today at 11:30am, then went for lunch. I love my job.

Sometimes, All We Need Is Love
Independent, Self-Sufficient, Lives-Alone-And-Loves-It Heather is losing it. I’ve finally met that point where I don’t NEED anyone – somedays, I don’t even WANT anyone – in a boyfriend/lover sort of way. But I’ve noticed myself getting bitter! Ick! It’s hard to trust in fate, destiny, yada yada when I’m trapped on a goddamn island of couples and old men and gay boys. I’m in the wrong city.

I’m going to have another drink now 🙂

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Post-Atomic Vaudeville – March 31, 2005

My alarm goes off in 5.5 hours — I should go to bed. Jessie and I had another excellent girly night, with martinis, steak, lobster tails, ice cream, shopping, cider & wine. Oh, and we went to see Atomic Vaudeville’s 10th episode, “The Passion.” Mike Delamont sang – it was fantabulous.

I’m going to drink a litre of water and go to bed. Bon nuit.